A Disturbing Entity
by rikkirye
Summary: Harry Potter's link with Voldemort has greatly strengthened. So much so, that the Dark Lord has found himself with yet another new body. Problem? He has to share it, with none other than the Boy Who Lived himself. TWT


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter is J.K. Rowling's. I am just using them for my own sadistic pleasure. Cheers!

A/N: Actually, this is three chapters put into one… (the only chapters, I've written, in case you were wondering,) since I thought that maybe you guys'd like it better that way…? *hopeful smile*

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Everybody in the class turned as Harry Potter suddenly began screaming.

Professor McGonagall rushed to his side. "Potter! Are you all right?"

"-My scar! Oh, God! It _burns_!" The rest was lost as Harry writhed and grimaced and shrieked.

McGonagall turned and cast a sharp gaze at the shocked observers. "You, Weasley," she snapped at Ron, "get Professor Dumbledore. _Now._"

Face pale, he rushed to do as she ordered. The rest of the class murmured amongst themselves nervously, backing away unconsciously, as they waited for Dumbledore.

In an instant, the screams stopped, as suddenly as they came. The class breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. A few students looked at each other and rolled their eyes, remembering the many Daily Prophet articles about this.

"What is going on here?" Dumbledore walked in, glancing sternly about. Ron followed meekly.

The whole class began talking. Dumbledore silenced them with a disapproving look.

"It's his scar, Professor." Hermione spoke up. "He just started screaming. He said it burned or something…and then he just- stopped."

Dumbledore walked to McGonagall's side. He motioned for her to move aside.

"Harry. Harry, can you hear me? Harry." He frowned. "Harry?"

Silence.

"…Professor Dumbledore?" Harry's voice was parched and somehow burnt, as if he had been trapped in the desert for a long time. Though that was quite understandable, considering the volume and length of his screaming.

"Harry!" Dumbledore couldn't conceal his relief. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm… not sure. One minute I was listening to Professor McGonagall, the next…"

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore prompted.

"I…I can't remember."

Dumbledore frowned, a tad disbelieving. Harry looked up, an innocent expression on his face.

"Are you _sure,_ Harry?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Harry nodded affirmatively, then winced as he held a hand to his head. "Ouch."

"Here," Dumbledore quickly levitated Harry up, "I'll bring you to the Infirmary. Madame Pomfrey will fix you up in a bit."

McGonagall scowled at the class, practically _daring_ anyone to say something. They didn't take her up on it.

"Well," she clapped her hands together briskly, "back to work, class."

They groaned in unison.

Hermione raised her hand tentatively. "Professor McGonagall? Will he, that is, Harry, be all right?"

McGonagall puckered her brow for a moment. "Yes, Miss Granger. I'm sure he'll be fine."

That done, they went back to attempting to turn a snail invisible.

-----

Dumbledore laid Harry gently on a bed, while the ever-disapproving Madam Pomfrey watched.

"Harry," he said quietly, "you are _positive_ that there is nothing you wish to tell me?"

Harry almost smiled. I seem to remember another conversation quite like this, and this time the answer is the same as it was before. "Yes, Professor. I'm sure."

With a last slightly skeptical look, Dumbledore left.

Madam Pomfrey frowned, now free to give in to her inner mother hen. She tsked gently as she settled Harry in, pulling the covers up and forcing him to drink a vile tasting potion before going to sleep.

Harry sighed when she left. What happened? It was true. First he was just listening, counting the minutes until class was over, then, suddenly… he ground his teeth in frustration. He just couldn't remember.

He seemed to remember that it hurt, though. He exhaled tiredly. He may as well try to rest a little, then. When Madam Pomfrey came back to check on him, he was already asleep.

He dreamed…

Blinding whiteness. Emptiness.

One long string. Starting out red, changing into gold, and far, far in the distance, finishing a silvery green.

Red, gold, green. Somehow familiar… somehow.

Traffic lights?

No, that couldn't be it. The sharp yellow of a traffic light was _nothing_ compared to this deep, rich gold.

Still… it reminded him of something he should know. Something he shouldn't have forgotten.

Shapes form.

Cedric… that old man… his mom… dad… others…

And at the end of it all… Voldemort.

High, mocking laughter.__

Harry sat up suddenly, heart pounding, and mouth almost painfully dry.

He flinched. His head still ached, but admittedly not as bad as before.

_Voldemort._

It wasn't a nightmare, necessarily, he was used to nightmares. But this, if he didn't know better, he'd say it was the most pleasant dream concerning Voldemort he'd ever had. Admittedly, that wasn't much to go on, but…

"Harry! You're up." Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

It's funny how she always seems to know when you're up, Harry thought in resigned affection as she forced some more potions down his throat, then forced him to eat a proper breakfast, seeing as he probably wouldn't eat otherwise.

Madam Pomfrey's idea of an ideal breakfast consisted of a cup of nasty-tasting potion, some eggs, a piece of bacon, a piece of toast. Then, immediate sleep.

The last one, Harry refused.

"I have classes, you know! I can't skip out, and Hermione and Ron will probably be worried still." Harry pleaded.

If word got out that another episode like this had happened, and that he stayed more than a day in the Infirmary, right after the Rita Skeeter incident, well, Harry could just imagine the reactions.

He shuddered inwardly. Malfoy and his cronies would just gloat and gloat and gloat. And the Hufflepuffs would eye me warily, and the Ravenclaws would pretend not to know me, and the Gryffindors would outwardly support me but feel embarrassed inside, and _show _it, and…

My only helpers would be Hermione and Ron, who while admittedly great friends and all, couldn't be everywhere. And they couldn't always help.

Madam Pomfrey grimaced, but finally agreed to Harry's request, with fairly bad grace, may we add.

Yes! Harry smiled thankfully.

Madam Pomfrey waved a finger in his face, as Harry quickly got up. "And don't let me hear of you getting sick or something because you wouldn't rest enough, young man. I expect you to stay firmly away from this place for at least a month! Well, maybe a month is a bit too much to ask, so a week at least. Is that too much to ask?"

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry. I'll be fine." Smiling faintly, he fled.

Harry ran through the corridors to the Gryffindor Dormitories, hoping to catch Ron and Hermione before they left for class.

Unintentionally, he first crashed head into none other than the students' epitome of darkness, the Prince of Hell himself: Professor Severus Snape.

Oops. Harry backed away slightly and looked around for an escape route.

Too late. 

"Well, well, _Potter_." The name was spat out like a curse, which to the man probably was. "What are you doing, running through the corridors like that? What, no little friends with you, either? No fan club?"

Harry looked down, eyes burning. Snape had the most disconcerting way of making everything seem your fault, making you feel stupid, making you feel _worthless._

How Harry longed to look up and snap some witty and acidic comeback, but he knew that would only lose him points, and perhaps gain him a detention as well.

"I heard about your little 'episode' yesterday, Potter. Feeling like you're _still _not getting enough attention, is that it? Even after all those _other_ little incidents?"

Harry grit his teeth. _Find a happy place, find a happy place…_

"Well?"

"No." Harry bit out.

"No, what?"

"No, _sir._"

"..."

Silence.

"You're dismissed, Potter. Hurry and go meet up with your little fan club, why don't you? I'm sure they're all _so_ worried."

Harry turned to leave, not daring to believe in his good luck. No points taken off!

"-Oh, and Potter?"

Harry turned around again, mentally cursing. He should have known it was too good to last. "Yes, Professor?"

"Ten points off Gryffindor. For your insolence." Snape smirked, as if he knew exactly what Harry had been thinking.

Harry nodded shortly, and escaped as quickly as he could without actually running.

-----

"Harry!" Hermione sat up from her chair. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry flashed her a smile, grateful that they had deigned to wait for them.

"Harry, you sure you okay? Yesterday, you- well, you didn't seem so great, if you know what I mean." Ron looked at Harry carefully.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, unconsciously ruffling it up. "Nah, I'm okay. Really!"

"Uh-huh." Hermione said doubtfully.

"I'm serious!"

Ron crossed his arms. "All right, I _know _you're lying. Spill."

"Okay, okay," Harry laughed lightly, "I really don't remember."

Hermione and Ron stared at him in shocked distrust. "You –don't remember. You don't remember?!"

Harry winced as their stares bored into him mercilessly. "I'm telling the truth, guys! I don't remember anything!"

"You were screaming about your scar. You said it was burning," Hermione informed him bluntly.

"…I did?" Harry frowned thoughtfully. "Weird."

"You're not pulling our legs, are you, Harry?" Ron still looked doubtful. Hermione mirrored his expression.

"No, no I'm not."

"…"

"Oh, I ran into Snape today in the halls too." Harry said at last in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Oh, _that_ slimy git. How many points did he take off?" Ron seemed to be feeling lenient today, though a glint in his eye said that this wasn't over, just unfinished.

"Don't call Professor Snape that," Hermione said automatically. 

And with that, the conversation was deterred and momentarily forgotten as the trio left for class.

Momentarily, being the key word.

-----

Transfiguration.

Everybody eyed Harry warily, even Professor McGonagall, and Harry swore to himself that if _one more _person asked him if he was sure he was all right, he was going to scream.

No one would come that close to him either, besides Ron and Hermione.

"All right, then, class. Turn to page one hundred and thirty-one of your text book. We'll be learning the same as yesterday, seeing as only Miss Granger here managed to actually transfigure the snail correctly." Professor McGonagall gave a tight-lipped smile.

Hermione blushed in pleasure. Ron rolled his eyes.

"You think you'd be used to being _praised_ like that, 'Mione. After all, it happens to you just about every single day," Ron muttered.

Hermione glared at him. "Just because I study and practice, unlike _someone _I know-"

Ron waved a hand, cutting her off. Hermione's eyes narrowed. Ron scooted away as inconspicuously as he could, which was quite a wise move, judging from the way Hermione looked ready to curse him.

"You are sure you're feeling okay, right, Potter?" Professor McGonagall watched Harry cautiously.

Harry nodded, and smiled, hoping that it didn't look _too_ fake. "Yes, Professor."

She frowned dubiously, but turned away to continue lecturing.

Harry scowled. It's like they actually _expect _me to start screaming again. About, what was it Ron said? Oh yeah, my scar. It's always my scar, isn't it?

He scribbled notes furiously, trying to ignore the soft titters and whispers about him. He couldn't avoid hearing them altogether though, more's the pity.

*Snap*

Harry's head snapped up, noticing that he had snapped his quill from holding it so hard. Flushing, he ducked his head down to get another one, only to find that he had no more extras. He cursed inwardly.

"Psst, Harry. Use mine." Hermione held out a quill to him, which Harry accepted gratefully, hoping his face didn't look too red.

Snickers sounded in the Slytherin side of the room. Harry grit his teeth, determined to ignore them.

At the end of class, only Draco, Seamus, Dean, Hermione, and Lavender had managed to turn their snails invisible. Harry had been too tensed up to concentrate, and Ron had been staring at Hermione as unnoticeably as he possibly could.

Harry put his head down in exhaustion. It was going to be a long, long day.

-----

Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting outside at lunchtime, enjoying the peaceful quietness, away from the prying, suspicious eyes. Harry swore that the next person to so much as _look_ at him sideways would be hexed three ways to Sunday, regardless of the rules.

Unfortunately, Hermione had managed to dissuade him, seeing as the person in front of him was just about the top on the to-be-cursed list. Yup, right under Voldemort, his relatives, and tied with Snape.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Harry Potter and his little gang. How's your _scar_, Potter? I hope you're not going to start screaming again. Dumbledore might have to be called to play doctor again." Draco Malfoy smirked coldly. Crabbe and Goyle grunted accordingly.

Harry closed his eyes briefly. Why me?

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron snapped.

"Why don't you make me, Weasley? Hmm?"

"Oh, just be quiet, Malfoy," Hermione joined in.

Harry resisted the urge to bang his head against the tree. Just shut up, all of you!

They turned to look at him simultaneously.

Harry winced inwardly. Did I say that out loud…?

"Uh, Harry?" Ron looked at him in concern, masking the hurt underneath. "You okay?"

Harry sighed. Yup, I did. "Sorry Ron. I'm a little… out of it."

"Obviously." Malfoy put in, not liking not being in the center of attention.

"Just go away, you twit!" Hermione scowled.

"Oh, the Mudblood's angry, is she now?" Malfoy mocked.

Ron glared at him menacingly, wand held out in front of him. "Back off, Malfoy. I mean it."

Malfoy did, but couldn't resist one last parting shot. "Fine, then. See Potter? Look at all your little guard dogs. Maybe if they're good, you could give them a bone."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "That's the best you can come up with? Your father must be disappointed in you, Malfoy. You certainly don't take after _him._"

Malfoy flushed and hurried away.

Ron gave Harry a high-five. "All right, Harry! You sure told him. Heh. I'm not sure which one's worse. Him or Snape."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, I guess."

Hermione sighed but let it pass.

"…You're _sure_ you're all right, right Harry?"

Harry's left eye twitched. "_Yes,_ Ron. I'm _fine._"

"Well, all right, if you say so," Ron replied doubtfully, hiding his amusement. "And you know, your eye's twitching."

Harry grit his teeth. _Find a happy place, find that happy place…_

"Don't bother him, Ron. Can't you see he's tired? Don't know what he's doing out of the Infirmary so early. How'd you get Madam Pomfrey to agree to it, anyway?" Hermione put down her book to gaze at him appraisingly.

"Ah, well," Harry shrugged, embarrassed, "if you must know, I begged."

They stared at him. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. Was it really that big of a deal?

Apparently not, for Ron and Hermione's mingled laughter soon filled the air.

Harry flushed, but smiled good-naturedly.

The bell rang.

-----

Nighttime.

Harry looked outside the window miserably.

How he wished he could tell Sirius about what had happened. But he knew, that if he did, his godfather would come rushing back here again, risking everything.

Harry laid his head down on the windowsill.

"Why me?" he whispered, in the time honored tradition of reluctant heroes all around the world.

He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off.

_"Harry, Harry…"_

Harry frowned, looking around. Where was he?

He blanched in shock. _No._

Not here. Not again.

He glanced to the side and almost sighed in relief. No Cedric, lying spread-eagled on the ground, face and eyes pale and oh-so-dead.

"_Harry."_

Harry looked up to the source of the sound.

Tall, imposing, glowing red eyes. Voldemort.

"_What are you doing here?" _Harry demanded in bravado.

"_Don't hide your fear, boy. I can," _his eyes gleamed with dark amusement as his tongue flickered out.

A snake, like a snake, he's a snake, a snake. Harry took a step back as those thoughts flitted through his mind.

_"Smell it."_

A soft chuckle, nothing like the high-pitched cackling he was used to. Almost a pleasant sound, one he wouldn't mind falling asleep to- What was he thinking?!

"What? You're invading my dreams now? Not satisfied with taking my parents, or Cedric, you're going to take my privacy too? My dreams?"

_"Your dreams were _always _mine, Harry. You know that…"_

Two wands raised simultaneously. Harry noticed with some surprise and horror that he had no control over what he was doing.

_"Avada Kedavra!" "Expelliarmus!"_

Two voices, identical for that one split second. Both convincing themselves it was just a trick of their ears, both convincing themselves it wasn't real.

And the phoenix sang, if possible, even more beautifully than before.

It was hard, the battle of the light between their wands. And this time, Harry was the one who lost.

As his wand began to smoke lightly, he felt an unexplained burst of pain, even more agonizing than when his scar hurt, and he was flung back into the land of the living.

"Harry!" Ron shook his shoulder roughly.

"Huh? What- Ron?" Harry blinked blearily. That dream… not like before, not a nightmare. No, not a nightmare…not quite. And the way the phoenix sang…

"You yelled something for a second. Really loud," Ron added reproachfully.

"Oh. Sorry, Ron. I was having a bit of a weird dream."

"With Vol- You-Know-Who?" Ron said worriedly.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, but it wasn't really a nightmare, see. It was… in the place where Cedric- died, but he wasn't there. It was just me and him… and the wand thing happened again."

"Wand thing? What are you talking about-?"

"_Priori Incantatem…" _Harry whispered. "The Reverse Spell Effect…"

"Harry? Harry! You _sure_ you okay, mate? You've been acting hecka weird."

Harry looked up into Ron's freckled, honest, befuddled face, and smiled softly. "I'm fine, Ron. Just fine."

With a last unconvinced look, Ron retreated back into his bunk

Harry stood up, grimacing as he stretched, trying to work the newly-formed kinks out of his sore muscles. Note: sleeping on hard, stone windowsills is _very_ painful when you wake up.

Harry plopped down on his bunk and for the first time in a long time, went to sleep with a smile on his face. A half-smile, yes, but a smile just the same.

And the light from the window filtered in, shining upon his scar…

----- The Next Morning:

"Well, Harry," Hermione said cheerfully, looking up from her book (naturally) at him, "looks like you're getting enough sleep, finally!"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess so."

Ron glanced at Harry obliquely. "Hey, Harry? You never did tell me what that dream of yours was really like."

"Dream?" Hermione's gaze immediately sharpened. "What dream, Harry?"

"It's nothing," Harry insisted. "But I slept well, and that's all that matters, right?"

"What do you mean nothing?" Ron said incredulously. "You said so yourself that You-Know-Who was in it!"

"Shh," Harry said, looking around furtively, "people will hear!"

"Wait, wait, wait. How could you have a dream with You-Know-Who in it and say that you _slept well_?!" Hermione looked at them in confusion. 

"Look, can we just drop it? Okay?" Harry said, running his fingers through his tangled mass of hair awkwardly, the waking morning euphoria rapidly disappearing.

"Okay, okay, mate. No need to get touchy," Ron said.

"Yeah, Harry. Ron's just worried about you, you know. After all these scar incidents and now you're saying you can't even remember them-"

"Just _drop _it, all right!" Harry said in frustration. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Hermione looked at him reproachfully. "If that's what you want, Harry. Let's go to breakfast, then."

She and Ron left the Dormitory, every inch of them almost screaming disapproval.

Harry scowled, but chuckled at the sight of them. "Just like an old married couple," he mused to himself. His grin widened as he rushed to catch up.

He ignored Malfoy's blistering comments, as the trio sat down to eat, which could be heard all too clearly even on the other side of the room. He even managed to ignore Snape's cold, pinning glare, which usually was enough to make him lose his appetite.

This was Glare #5, the I-Hate-You-So-Much-That-I-Would-Puke-If-I-Was-Not-Surrounded-By-Idiots, and he wasn't kidding about the idiot part.

Harry grinned apologetically at his friends, who accepted it happily. Neither Ron nor Hermione was really good at holding grudges, unless it was to each other.

He caught Dumbledore's eye at the staff table and grinned cheekily. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily back.

"You seem to be unnaturally cheerful today," Fred muttered from the other side of the table. George nodded in agreement.

"Right. So spill. What's gotten you so happy today?" George demanded.

Harry shrugged but wondered inside. Was he really always such a grump? "Nothing."

"Uh-huh," the twins frowned at him in disbelief. "Riight."

Harry scowled suddenly. "Leave me _alone_." His scar seemed to prickle for a moment, but not painfully, more like he had just been tickled.

Fred and George blinked and sat back in their chairs. "Geez, no need to get so bristly."

"We were just asking," Fred added.

"So I guess you're just mood-swingy today then, right?" George asked.

"Yeah, that's it. Just kind of mood-swingy," Harry said.

Ron and Hermione busied themselves with eating. "Well, it's good that you're not that happy anymore, because I'd hate to be the one to ruin your mood," Ron said, brandishing his fork. Hermione admonished him immediately, but her tone held no true sting.

"Huh? Why?" Harry blinked.

"Because we've got Divination first." Ron said absent-mindedly, as he looked around the table for another pitcher of pumpkin juice, as his cup was finished.

*Thunk*

Harry's head hit the table. "Yaah!" He yelped, having fallen face-first into his plate, which was heaped with eggs. Runny eggs.

Ron snickered. Hermione snickered. The twins laughed out-right. Even a nearby Neville found it in himself to give a chuckle.

Harry glared at them menacingly, which is fairly difficult when you've got eggs running down your forehead and dripping off your nose. He grabbed a napkin and wiped off his face and glasses the best he could. 

"Um, Harry? There's a little in your hair," Hermione said, trying to keep her mouth straight and professional. She failed, by the way. Quite miserably, too.

Muttering under his breath, Harry wiped that off too, and only had two false starts, each punctuated by another laugh by either Ron, the twins, Hermione, and even Neville.

"Divination…ugh." Harry glowered at his plate. "She'll probably go on and on and _on_ about my little scar 'incident,' and then she'll probably give me another prophecy on how I'm going to die, this year. What do you think it'll be, Ron?"

"I don't know. Maybe an earthquake? Or drowning? I don't think she's done those yet." Ron sipped his now filled cup noisily.

"Or maybe she'll do the Grim, again," Hermione added, Professor Trelawney being the only teacher Hermione would not only _not_ defend, but also the only one Hermione would join in criticizing. Sometimes, she even came up with insults that Harry and Ron hadn't even heard of.

"Heh. Maybe." Harry still hadn't told them about the time Professor Trelawney had actually made a _true_ prediction, and right in front of him, too.

-----

"Oh, Harry, you poor _darling. _I heard all about your little episode a while ago._"_ Professor Trelawney smiled down at him in what she probably thought was a comforting, benign way, but which only managed to pass the line at condescending and slightly scary.

Harry's left eye twitched again. Darling?! What the heck was that about?

Lavender Brown and Parvarti Patil smiled and waved at Professor Trelawney from the back of the room, their idol.

Ron snorted, only changing it to a sneeze at the last moment.

"Oh dear. I'm afraid that you will soon have to miss this class. Struck ill, if I see correctly," Trelawney nodded sagely. Ron and Harry rolled their eyes at each other.

Lavender and Parvarti though, only looked at Trelawney with more awe.

"She's got them bewitched," Ron muttered, meaning Trelawney. Harry couldn't help but nod in agreement. Lavender and Parvarti usually were fairly levelheaded, but when they were with Professor Trelawney, well…

"Today, we will be learning about dream interpretation," she said in that breezy voice of hers. As she droned on, Harry doodled on his parchment, trying to make it look as if he was actually paying attention.

The bell rang. Harry jumped and looked around guiltily. Thankfully, only Ron had noticed, and he was quietly sniggering behind his hand.

"Well," Ron remarked as they packed up, "off to Charms now."

Harry muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath as he dropped and then stepped on his quill, effectively snapping it.

"You know," Ron said, "I think I see an omen in that. It says all your bones are going to break and fall apart, and oh yeah, you're going to grow feathers." Harry laughed reluctantly.

-----

Flitwick bustled around cheerfully, grinning and squeaking, even when a countercharm accidentally tossed him across the room.

Harry sighed, and said the charms by memory now, not even paying attention to what he was doing.

The class was over in almost no time at all.

-----

Binns droned at the class in that monotonous way of his, while most people leaned back in their chairs for a nap. Harry decided to join in, as he laid his head on the table for just a short little rest.

_"Harry. Back so soon?" _If Harry didn't know better, he'd say Voldemort was almost pleased. He glanced around. It was the same surroundings, same place, same time, same Dark Lord. 

_"I'm…taking a nap," _Harry admitted, not feeling up to lying to him at the moment. He had a feeling that pleased Voldemort too. _"What are you doing?" _

Voldemort shrugged lightly. _"Like you said before, Harry, I'm invading your dreams and your privacy." _He chuckled. Harry had the irrational, perverse urge to hear that sound again.

"_So, so, so…" _Voldemort mused to himself. _"Is it time yet, then? Hmm…" _Harry blinked, startled. What was he talking about?

_"Our link has strengthened, boy, you know that. Strange… how the only reason you are alive, is because of me. The only reason you are as you are, is because of me. And despite all my best efforts, you just won't die."_

_"God bless," _Harry said, in a half-hearted, rare attempt at humor.

"_God? There is no God. There is only Death."_

_"And life."_

_"And me." _Voldemort smirked.

_"And you," _Harry acquiesced.

Voldemort tilted his head to the side. Then, both wands were lifted. Again. But this time, Harry lowered his, noting in slight panic that he could not control arm. Almost scornfully, Voldemort lowered his as well, as Harry glared at him through brilliant green eyes, furious and confused at the loss of his control.

_"Time to wake up, Harry_." Voldemort said calmly, mockingly_._

So he did, with only a soft murmur to travel back out of the dream with him. _"Next time we meet, it will be in _much_ different circumstances."_

And the bell rang.

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Okay! How'd you like? I hope it wasn't too boring/whatever. 

Plus… why is Voldemort being so nice??!!!! Okay, he's not being exactly _nice, _so to speak, but compared to the way J. K. Rowling portrays him…! Compared to the way almost _everybody _portrays him…! I'm not really good at making bad guys really bad…(sorry to all you folks who like evil… but he'll get eviler soon… I hope.) And as you've noticed, I liked the little …'s. ^_^;

**Review please! *begs shamelessly* I love reviews!**


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